Friday, September 5, 2014

The Spa, er, Hospital

It's been fun and filled with radiation and cervical scraping as I finished my list of stuff to prepare for IVF: dentist, pap smear, and mammogram. Great three days.

But I want to talk about my first ever mammogram.

You probably don't need a mammogram to start IVF, but my mom had breast cancer when I was a teenager, so it is seared into my brain that I will get breast cancer very young and that breast cancer is damn scary. (Don't worry my mom is OK.) As I was filling out the forms, I am now 32. 32!!!! THIRTY TWO. Yes, I have been failing this long, and I put off this mammogram this long and probably wouldn't have gone before IVF if the doctor didn't make me. My mom was 37 when she got breast cancer.

But what struck me was how much the mammogram center, in a major medical facility, was like the RE office. That was exactly what it reminded me of. It was so huge and new and clean. It had little consult areas, free coffee, comfy custom sofas, beautiful art. It was all pink with pink ribbons, but the gist was the same. Money.

In the locker room to change, it was like a spa. Bubbling rock features, free drinks, teak benches, beautiful settees, soothing music. Hell, I expected to see a sauna in the locker room. We waited in lovely plush robes and then the tech was so very nice. Better than my RE's at least, but how can anything be nice in the stirrups? After constant scans with a dildo cam, a mammogram was nothing. And you can do it too. It's nice, and unlike the RE's office, your insurance will probably pay for this level of luxury. I didn't even have a copay.